


want the friction

by blainedarling



Series: Seblaine Sunday Challenges [18]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-09 12:58:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1146275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blainedarling/pseuds/blainedarling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt #22: age difference</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

It was official. As he stood, facing the mirror in the executive bathroom, staring hard at the reflection that greeted him, he knew he could deny it no longer. He, Blaine Anderson, had a grey hair.

 

He sighed, hands falling to his sides in despair before he hastily tucked the hair back into its proper place, hidden behind the precious dark locks. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised: thirty six years old, and a Broadway producer at that. As if there could be more stressful jobs for a man like himself.

 

He made his way back to his office, staring helplessly at the stack of scripts, notes, and other general chaos that was heaped across his desk. His secretary had the week off, and it was really starting to have an impact. Once upon a time, he’d been more organised, but that had fallen to the wayside a little, when life got in the way.

 

His gaze fell onto the photo sitting on his desk, the jagged edge of the ripped side clearly visible even where it had been carefully tucked beneath the side of the wooden frame. A slightly younger, sprightlier looking Blaine, glowing in the light of the Californian sun, his arm thrown around a younger boy. Early teens, the same mass of dark curls, hazel eyes hidden behind expensive sunglasses. 

 

His son, Luca. Sixteen, these days, and attending one of the most prestigious schools in the state of New York, just outside of the city. Rooming there Monday through Friday, since Blaine was barely home during the week anyway, and back for the weekends. Although Blaine was rarely there on weekends, either. Somehow, he’d stopped putting in the effort when Kurt had left; let go of that strong wall that said  _I do not work on weekends, do not put this shit on my desk._

 

Luca seemed to understand, at any rate. He was a smart kid, conscientious far beyond his sixteen years, and a shoe-in to become captain of his school’s lacrosse team by the time he was a senior. Blaine was proud, he was. Perhaps if he were a little better at showing it, Luca would know that, too.

 

“You look like hell,” Santana commented from the doorway, her talon like nails drumming into the wood. “When was the last time you took a night off?”  
Blaine shrugged, cracking out his back as he stretched a little. “And do what? Sit at home in an empty apartment? Go out for dinner with you?”

 

She snorted, folding her arms across her chest. “Unlike you, I have plans tonight, thank you very much.” She hummed for a moment, tilting her head at him thoughtfully. “Go out. Meet someone. It doesn’t have to mean anything, B. But you need to remember what it’s like.”

 

Blaine wasn’t sure when he became the sort of man to follow Santana’s advice, especially when it came to the area of men. He’d only ever slept with three people in his entire life: his first boyfriend, Jerimiah, way back when he’d been a frightened, nervous little sophomore; the man whose name he couldn’t even recall, with the strong hands, on the night that his divorce was finalised; and his husband. Ex-husband.

 

He’d nearly asked Sam to come along with him; an old friend, happily married and very much straight, but willing enough to hang around as a support system should it be needed. But in the end, he decided he was perhaps better off alone for the night, as he pushed into the dark, hollow expanse of the club.

 

Fortunately, he wasn’t the oldest man in the room. There were the leeches, the older men with perverted sneers that clung around the edges waiting to grab any intoxicated little boy that would let them. Blaine suppressed a shudder, working his way into the room and towards the bar. For a while, he simply sat, taking drink after drink - his tolerance had improved somewhat over the years. 

 

When he turned slightly, it was to find a young man staring back at him. And he was precisely that:  _young._  Quite possibly too young to even be legally drinking, but Blaine wasn’t about to start acting the role of the father right then and there. 

 

He was tall, Blaine noted as he moved over towards him, all long, lithe limbs, and clean cut features. Green eyes sparked at him, interest and lust and alcohol clear in the dilated pupils. His shirt gaped open at the collar as he pressed in beside him at the busy bar, a hand falling hot against his bicep. 

 

“Mr Anderson,” the man purred, giving him a tug. “You are going to dance with me now.”  
Blaine should have left then: it wasn’t often he got recognised, but to anyone with any knowledge of the Broadway world, his face would be a familiar one. Who knew what the boy’s angle was - to sell some sob story to the press, to tell them he seduced a boy who was far too young for him.

 

But Blaine found it hard to focus on that as the boy’s hands landed onto his hips, staying there only for a moment before they were looping around his waist, fingers tiptoeing down to the curve of his ass. All Blaine could do was hang on for dear life, so out of practice with this world, his hands fisting into the back of Sebastian’s shirt as they rocked together.

 

It was barely dancing at all, the roll of their hips back and forth to the beat of the music, both of them very obviously hard against the other’s thigh within what seemed like just moments. 

 

“Tell me your name,” Blaine panted, almost desperately as he gazed up at him, at the lips he wanted to kiss, at the jaw he wanted to bite.   
The boy smirked widely, licking his lips so slowly and sensuously that Blaine had to resist a whine. “Tell me you’ll take me home with you tonight.”

 

So, Blaine said yes because he was powerless to do anything less, pulling the boy into a cab outside, lost in the delirium that was his lips on his own.   
“Sebastian,” he whispered hotly against his lips, his hand halfway through Blaine’s belt, the cab still stuck somewhere in Midtown. “My name is Sebastian.”

 

“Sebastian,” Blaine groaned, a warm hand closing around his cock through the material of his briefs. “Wait-- until we...”  
Sebastian chuckled, squeezing gently, his thumb seeking out the tip, where the front of his underwear was damp already. “But I don’t want to wait.”

 

Blaine ended up having to tuck his cock haphazardly back into his jeans before making it out into the street, slipping the cab driver an extra fifty for not having said anything about the Broadway producer getting jerked off in the back of his car. 

 

Blaine thought he was the desperate one, his body awakened to how much he had craved another’s touch as soon as he’d gotten a taste again, but that was nothing compared to Sebastian. 

 

His hands were on him again the moment they stepped into the elevator, away from the prying eyes of the doorman, skating over Blaine’s hipbones, his lower stomach, scratching at the line of dark hair that ran down to the waistband of his pants. It was all Blaine could do to hold on to the metal bar at the back of the elevator, hips bucking up in Sebastian’s direction, wanting anything he would give him.

 

They stumbled into the apartment blind, not even bothering to turn any lights on as Blaine tugged him towards the bedroom, his pants hanging down around his knees by the time he hit the bed. He hit the beside lamp, a warm light flooding the room, highlighting the freckles over Sebastian’s tanned skin.

 

And when Sebastian finally -  _finally_  - pushed into him, Blaine was sure his entire body had come alive again, back arching, cock aching against his stomach. He could feel Sebastian from the top of his head, one set of long, elegant fingers twisted in his hair, right down to his toes, scratching against the taller boy’s calves as he fucked into him.

 

He was never going to last long, but Sebastian seemed nothing but appreciative as Blaine came in ropes between them, his ass clenching down around where the other was thrusting into him with increased fervor.

 

“So hot, Blaine, so good,” he mumbled, his voice cracked and hoarse as his fingers dug into Blaine’s hips, coming hard and deep inside him.  
Even through the thin film of the condom, Blaine could really feel it, hot and pulsing, his body fighting to get hard again. But he was by no means as young as he once was.

 

The crashing reality didn’t hit straight away, however, as Blaine watched Sebastian stretch out his limbs, pushing his hair back from his sweaty forehead. But then he was going for his clothes, and even if maybe that was the standard protocol for that kind of thing, Blaine just wanted him to stay. Just for the night.

 

“What’s the rush?” Blaine cracked a slightly self conscious smile, propping himself up onto his elbows. “I could take you out for breakfast in the morning.”  
Sebastian tugged on his jeans, giving an apologetic half shrug. “I can’t afford to miss first period again.” He leaned down, and pressed a smacking kiss to Blaine’s lips. “But we should do this again sometime. I’ll leave my number in the hall.”

 

Blaine watched him leave, a sickening churn running through his stomach. “How old are you?” he called after him, the amused chuckle all he received in response enough to have his head sinking down onto the pillow with a groan.

 

*

 

Blaine slipped the sunglasses down over his face as he stepped out of the car, giving a few cursory nods to familiar looking parents, as the boys started milling out from the school in waves. He spotted Luca walking with some of his teammates, lacrosse stick propped up over his shoulder, weekend bag on the other arm.

 

“Hey, dad!” Luca greeted him with a one armed hug, but the smile was genuine, warming Blaine’s heart a little. “I said it would be okay if we gave one of the guys a lift back to the city. His dad’s working and his car’s at the garage. That cool?”

 

Blaine just nodded, giving Luca a pat on the shoulder as he waved his friend over. His entire body tensed, a long pair of legs jogging over to them and drawing up by the car. A cat like smile fixed itself onto him, a hand offered out for him to shake. 

 

“Pleasure to finally meet you, Mr Anderson,” he grinned, the weight of his hand against Blaine’s palm reminding him of the heat of them inside of him. “I’m Sebastian Smythe.”


	2. Part Two

It had been many years since Blaine had gotten his driver’s license, so many that his memories of the exact rules of the handbook he’d painstakingly memorised in preparation for taking his test had grown somewhat fuzzy and confused. But he had a feeling that one was not supposed to drive when experiencing feelings of nausea, dizziness, or anxiety.

 

Blaine was feeling all of those things, and more, as he gripped hard at the steering wheel, firm beneath his clammy hands, his gaze purposefully trained on the road.   
“Just have to make it back to the city, just have to make it back to the city,” he mumbled to himself, eyebrows furrowed at he glared at the jammed up road in front of him, stretching far forward, all the way to the bridge.

 

“You okay, dad?” Luca called from the backseat, leaning forward to give his shoulder a squeeze. “You don’t look so good. I can drive, if you want.” He cracked a wide, cheeky grin, that relaxed Blaine for a moment, at least. A running joke between them ever since his own father had bequeathed him the Aston Martin the previous summer.

 

“Nice try, kiddo,” he replied easily, his gaze ticking up to the rearview to catch sight of Luca sinking back against the seat. He paid no heed to his companion. “You know how I feel about rush hour in New York.”

 

Luca hummed vaguely: his interest had moved on and returned to whatever he was playing around with on his phone. Sebastian didn’t offer up any contributions of his own, and Blaine hazarded another glance into the mirror. 

 

That was a mistake. He was met with those piercing green eyes, and a quirk at the corner of the lips that came and went so quickly that Blaine couldn’t even be sure he wasn’t imagining it. And then his stomach lurched along with the car as they shuddered forward another yard or so. 

 

He wanted to be angry with Sebastian - how could he have known, after all, that he was even of school boy age, let alone that he was a friend of his own son’s? Luca had never mentioned a Sebastian before; but, then again, would he have even registered it if he had?

 

He sighed, working out the kinks in his neck and trying to loosen his death like grip around the steering wheel. He had no one but himself to blame; he knew that better than anyone. He was supposed to be the adult in this situation, Sebastian was nothing but a child, playing a game he couldn’t understand because he didn’t yet have anything to lose.

 

His ears perked up as the boys laughed at something they were looking at on Luca’s phone - he caught traces of some girl’s name, and the mention of a locker room. He rolled his eyes, quickly tuning himself out of that conversation, and flicked his gaze over to where his own phone was tucked into the console.

 

Glancing up at the road and deciding that, yes, he had at least a moment before anyone was moving anywhere, he lit up the screen, groaning at the result.  
 _(5) missed calls from Santana_ \- followed by the little icon of the devil, that he’d appropriately assigned her on the day that he’d witnessed her throwing coffee over a slightly clueless intern.

 

He was likely to end up regretting it, but just on the off chance that it was urgent, he punched the call back button, turning it onto speaker.   
 _“There you are! I was starting to think I’d have to start checking the dumpsters for drugged elves in expensive jeans.”  
_ He gritted his teeth, inching forward as the traffic eased up momentarily. “I had out-of-office meetings. What’s the emergency, San?”

 

She let out a huff of frustration - the kind of noise Blaine did his best to avoid being on the receiving end of.  _“The emergency is I’ve been left in the dark. So, come on, Anderson, spill it. Did you get some last night?”_

 

Luca made a noise of disgust from the backseat, burying his face in his hands. Sebastian, on the other hand, remained silent once more.

 

“Santana, I’m in the car with Luca and his friend from school,” he hissed, his cheeks flaring as he caught Sebastian’s gaze in the mirror again. Blaine had never quite known what the expression  _the cat who got the cream_  meant, until then.

 

 _“Hi, Luca. Hi Luca’s friend from school.”  
_ Luca mumbled a response, apparently still too traumatised to offer up anything more. Blaine couldn’t really blame him.   
 _“Anyway, I’m going to take that as a yes. How was it?”_

 

Blaine glanced over his shoulder at his son, who was hastily digging his earphones out of his back, stabbing them almost venomously into the top of his phone.   
“Please, by all means, go back to your sex talk,” Luca grumbled, looking every bit the four year old boy Blaine had first brought home, who had pouted when he said he couldn’t have ice cream for breakfast. 

 

He offered his friend the other ear, but Sebastian declined, shaking his head a little.  
“You’re probably going to want to block out both ears,” he teased, and gestured to his own phone, mirroring Luca’s actions from a moment before. 

 

But there was something in Sebastian’s expression that told Blaine that the earphones were just a pretense, that he was still very much listening, laying in wait for whatever details he might be about to give up about their night together.

 

“It was...” Blaine trailed off, chewing on his lower lip for a moment.  _Invigorating. Rejuvenating. Exactly what I’d needed._  “It was a mistake,” he said firmly.   
Sebastian’s eyes narrowed a little, but despite the stony set of his jaw, he guessed that he wasn’t really buying what Blaine was putting across. 

 

 _“That bad?”  
_ Blaine sighed, rolling his shoulders back and then quickly throwing the car into gear as a space opened up in another lane. “I think I just need to learn to choose my partners better.”

 

Santana rang off a few minutes later, and the traffic was starting to ease up significantly, pulling them steadily towards the city. He didn’t dare look back at Sebastian again - as ridiculous as it was, he didn’t  _want_  to hurt him, in any way. He was just a kid. 

 

“Mr Anderson,” Sebastian murmured smoothly, leaning forward in his seat so far that Blaine could feel his breath on the back of his neck through the gap in the headrest. “I’ve just realised I don’t have my keys, and my parents are away on business this weekend. I don’t want to impose, but could I maybe stay with you?”

 

Luca had popped out one of his earphones in that time, and clearly oblivious to his father’s discomfort in the front seat, he beamed enthusiastically. “Of course you can, he won’t mind. And we were going to hang out this weekend, anyway.”

 

Blaine had no room to protest, really. What else could he possibly do? Call Sebastian out on lying, where he was sure he’d seen the flash of a bunch of keys on a hoop being tossed into his lacrosse bag when he’d walked over?

 

He sighed under his breath, noting that Luca was already deep in discussion with Sebastian about what kind of takeout they should get, and how they would have to go to the deli for brunch tomorrow. 

 

“As Luca said, of course you can stay.”   
He was going to end up regretting this, wasn’t he?

 

“Awesome!” Luca yelled, laughing, and grabbing his phone - no doubt to tweet about it to his few followers, that Blaine knew for a fact included his other father.   
He wondered what Kurt would make of all this, of the  _Sebastian_  of it all, but then he realised with a start that he really didn’t care.

 

“Awesome,” Sebastian echoed, settling back next to Luca with a smirk, and Blaine could have sworn he heard the clink of his keys in his pocket, or maybe he was just imagining things.

 

Blaine hit the gas as they got onto the bridge, the river rushing past them on either side, a headache forming behind his eyes.  _“Awesome.”_

 

*

 

A cold shower had been Blaine’s first port of call once they made it up into the apartment; taking it with a cold shoulder in their guest’s direction as he headed for his suite at the back. Luca played his part perfectly, anyway, shepherding Sebastian off into a short tour of the apartment, waving his father off with a promise that they’d let him know when they were hungry.

 

The shower had done little to cool his nerves, as he had hoped it would, however. The towel Sebastian had used to clean himself up briefly before leaving the night before was still on the back of the door, the bright red taunting him as he stood behind the frosted glass. His shower gel - some spicy, overpriced thing that one of the executives at the office had gotten him for Christmas in an attempt to butter him onto a dying project - reminded Blaine of the woodsy hints of Sebastian’s cologne that gathered over his collarbone. And the water streaming over his skin was too far a cry from the roaming hands that he both longed for, and the associated phantoms he longed to rid himself of. 

 

It occurred to him that he should be getting some work done; what with Luca having a friend over to stay, any attempts at father-son time that he might have been able to rustle up had been put on the back burner for the night. But the words were a foreign language before his eyes, swimming over the page and teasing him as he struggled to make sense of them, even through the lenses of his glasses.

 

He stared uselessly at the pages for what must have been hours, the artificial lights of the city long since having come up across the skyline, illuminating the darkness. Where the outside world was still thrumming, moving, the apartment was quiet, save for the drip of the tap and the occasional sound of voices coming from Luca’s bedroom.

 

The lingering headache that he’d been fighting for the latter half of the drive home was still as present as ever, and it was that that drove him to the liquor cabinet. He decided not to linger on the irony of the fact that alcohol had been what had gotten him into this situation in the first place.

 

He poured himself a generous glass of whisky, the amber liquid splashing up over the insides of the glass, a drop catching on the end of his thumb. He sucked it off pensively as he moved back over to the kitchen island, heaving himself up onto the stool with a grunt.

 

“Long day, Blaine?”  
His hand clenched around the glass as he continued to stare stonily at the counter before him, until he could ignore Sebastian no more, as he came to stand in front of him, on the other side of the counter. 

 

“I think Mr Anderson would be more appropriate,” he replied sharply, his eyes dragging upwards to find Sebastian’s gaze locked in on his mouth. He pursed his lips somewhat self consciously, until their eyes met.  
“Of course, Mr Anderson,” Sebastian purred, leaning forward over the counter, keeping himself propped up by his forearms.

 

_Mr Anderson._  That’s what Sebastian had called him at the bar, when he’d come to pull him up to dance. Blaine had thought he knew him for his business, but maybe that had been a misjudgment on his part. A severe one.

 

“You knew,” he hissed, tugging off his glasses and tossing them onto the counter, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “You  _knew_  I was Luca’s father.”  
Sebastian chuckled, giving an unapologetic shrug, a wide smile playing on his lips. “I like the glasses, by the way,” he murmured, almost in lieu of a real reply. “Very sexy professor.”

 

Blaine’s stomach lurched, but the worst part was he couldn’t deny the jolt of want that underlay the feeling, threatening to usurp the guilt and shame that had been plaguing him all afternoon.

 

“Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, watching a movie or something?” he mumbled vaguely, balling his hands into fists as he stared down at the pages resolutely.   
“Luca fell asleep. I just came to get a glass of water.”

 

Blaine snorted, running a hand over his face, the tension in his shoulders shifting a little. “Right.” He watched as Sebastian kept up his pretense, moving to the sink and taking a glass from the appropriate cupboard, which Blaine pointed out to him. He watched the drops of water sliding down the side, Sebastian’s long fingers shining against the glass. And he watched as Sebastian set the glass down and moved round to his side of the counter, lithe limbs in thin cotton achingly close. 

 

Close enough to touch. Apparently Sebastian had more than that in mind, his hand cool from the glass as it came up to cup Blaine’s flushed cheek, his thumb brushing over the contours of his face. His lips were cool too, but Blaine made quick work of warming them, gasping as their tongues slid together.

 

And in the doorway to his bedroom, Luca watched on in confusion as his father kissed his peer, his teammate, his friend.


	3. Part Three

The daylight was searing the backs of Blaine’s eyelids, a groan tumbling from his lips as he made to bury his face into the pillow, to block out the persistent light. But it was hardly going to be enough to allow him to go back to sleep; that luxury had been absent for the majority of the night.

 

And in the brief moments he had managed to sleep, it had been fitful, at best. Waking up with his legs twisted in the blankets, his body aching for a touch that he shouldn’t even be dwelling on, let alone wanting. 

 

The kiss - the touch of lips that was seared into his memory - had been a mistake. Maybe even a bigger mistake than their night together, for he could no longer claim to be oblivious, to be innocent in his wrongdoing. He had let his son’s friend, a minor, a schoolboy, kiss him. And he had kissed him back.

 

He sat up with a sigh, digging his fingers into the bags that were no doubt heavy under his eyes, his vision blurring and flickering into solid shapes before him. He could continue to fight against his conscience in the need for sleep, or he could get up, put on some coffee, and try and face what he had done.

 

The thought alone made him want to cocoon himself in blankets and never move again.

 

But Blaine was stronger than that; he knew he was. He was not a teenager ( _and wasn’t that exactly the problem?_ ) he would not wallow in his bedroom and order his body weight in takeout. 

 

“Up and at ‘em, Anderson,” he muttered under his breath, swinging his legs out of the bed and stumbling towards the bathroom, the wood paneled floor warm from the morning sun filtering in from underneath the curtains. 

 

Even by the time he’d made it out of the shower, he still expected to find the kitchen and living room deserted. It was early, for a Saturday, and for teenage boys. But Luca was already there, his head bowed over the counter as he fixed himself a sandwich, a threadbare sweatshirt hanging over his skinny frame. 

 

Blaine frowned: he was always worrying that Luca didn’t get enough to eat at that school. “Morning, kiddo,” he called out, taking a few steps forward and laying his hand on Luca’s shoulder. “You’re up early. Going for a run?”

 

Luca flinched under his touch, pulling back from him roughly, keeping his gaze down. “Yeah,” he grunted, slamming the top slice of bread over his sandwich with a little more force than was really necessary for a bakery product, and tearing a bite out of it with a scowl.

 

Blaine raised an eyebrow at his son’s almost animalistic behaviour, pulling a plate out of the nearest cupboard and setting it on the counter. “Manners, please.”  
Luca barked out a snide laugh, rolling his eyes and tossing the plate, unused, into the sink. Any harder, and Blaine wouldn’t have been surprised if it had cracked right down the middle. “Why? It’s not like you have any.”

 

The older Anderson blinked a few times - Luca acted out sometimes, of course, like any child. But not like this, unwarranted and inexplicable. Was this about the car? Blaine had promised him a car for his next birthday, no earlier, trying to teach his son that just because everyone else had one _now_ , did not mean that he needed one _now._  

 

“Watch the attitude, son,” Blaine said sharply, shaking his head a little as he moved past him to fill the coffee maker with the ground beans, the smell easing the tension in his shoulders somewhat.   
“Don’t call me that,” Luca hissed in response, the sandwich abandoned onto the counter, crumbs scattering over the marble, his arms wrapping tightly around his body. 

 

Blaine gaped at him, his hand hovering over the on/off switch of the coffee maker, falling down a minute later, the gurgling echoing around the kitchen. He snapped his jaw shut, looking over at the young boy, his pale cheeks, his body language displaying anger, but something stronger than that, something more consuming.   
“Oh, Luca,” Blaine whispered, reaching out for him but he pulled back once again, sharp, jerky movements. 

 

A creak across the living room. Blaine had ignored it, his brain, body, every fiber within him focused on the drag of Sebastian’s tongue over the roof of his mouth, but a distinctive creak. Which should have been enough to pull him out of the rabbit hole he’d been spiraling down but no, not quite enough.

 

“Did you...?” Blaine left the question open-ended, the words dying in his throat. As if saying it aloud might make it true, might make it somehow more potent and awful - if that were even possible.   
Luca nodded shakily, tears pooling in his eyes, the lines in his forehead giving away more emotion than Blaine supposed he really wanted to. “Who even _are_ you?” he whispered, pulling away from the kitchen counter and starting towards the door.

 

“Luca, please,” Blaine pleaded, following after him, tripping as his feet got caught in the plush carpet of the living room. “I’m still your dad, I’m still me, I made a _mistake_ , just let me explain, please.”  
“No!” Luca roared, whirling around on him as his hands frantically searched for his keys in the bowl in the hallway. “My father is a good man. My father is a caring man. My father would never hurt anyone, let alone do anything this.. _Repulsive._ ”

 

Blaine reared back like he’d been slapped, the word ringing around the apartment, in and out of his ears, punctuated by the slam of the door as Luca left, his footsteps squeaking down the corridor outside. His knees would give out any minute, he knew it, hands grasping for the couch as he sank down onto it. 

 

He felt like he couldn’t breathe, fighting for air, a lump filling up his windpipe, choking him from the inside. The ringing word had become just ringing itself, clanging and echoing, his vision clouding over, his skin clammy. 

 

“Blaine? _Blaine!”_

 

When he came to, it was to the feel of something cold and damp being pressed into his hand. He dragged his eyelids open, holding more firmly to the glass, the water like a soothing balm over the inside of his throat. 

 

“Thank you,” he murmured, tearing his gaze up to come face to face with Sebastian, who was kneeling on the floor looking on at him in concern. “Luca?”  
Sebastian shook his head a little, following it with a half shrug. “Hasn’t come back. You were only out for a minute or two, if that.” He bit his lip, his shoulders slumping. “I never meant for this to happen. You have to know that.”

 

Blaine nodded, folding his knees up to his chest, focusing on the pressure of the oxygen flowing into his lungs. For the first time, sitting before him, Blaine really saw Sebastian as the child that he was. How young he looked, still somewhat raw to the world around him. Innocent didn’t seem an appropriate word to describe Sebastian Smythe, and yet that was what he looked to Blaine right then. Pure and simple; _innocent._

 

“You should go home, Sebastian,” Blaine said finally, his tone firm as he straightened himself out, ignoring the slight lingering of a forming migraine behind his eyes. “I’m going to find Luca. I think I know where he’ll be.”

 

“Let me help,” Sebastian interjected, standing up after him and following him as he moved into the hall to collect his car keys. “I could talk to him first, or help you explain or-”  
“No.” Blaine turned to him, his jaw set. “You can help by gathering your things, and leaving. I expect to find you gone by the time we get back.”

 

Blaine longed to say goodbye, even that such a small gesture in the context of all that they had shared. But at the same time, it was too much and if Blaine was being honest with himself, he wasn’t even sure he could bring himself to say it. Instead, he simply gave the boy a curt nod, the door closing behind him before he allowed himself to say the word.

 

*

 

Luca’s silhouette shone from the reflection of the midday sun against the water, his frame leaning against the metal raining down by the docks. Exactly where Blaine had expected to find him. What he hadn’t expected - or, perhaps, hoped for - was for his son to turn, and on seeing him, simply return to his gaze to the water, making no move as if to run from him once again. 

 

“Sebastian called me.”  
_Of course he did._

 

“I guess I understand.” Luca cracked a wry smile as Blaine came to a stop by the railing. “Sebastian has a certain charm, right?” He tapped his fingertips off the metal. “You should see how the boys at school practically fall at his feet.”

 

Blaine saw something Luca didn’t want to expand on, something in his eyes that told a story that he wasn’t in any place to ask for. He simply nodded, hooking his toes underneath the railing and swinging back and forth a little. He remembered the first time he’d come down to those docks, himself, with his parents and his brother, on his first trip to the city. He’d been seven. Cooper had taught him how to hook his feet under, the two of them giggling as the warm air rushed over their heads, the water softly breaking below them.

 

“Was it bad?” Luca asked suddenly, whipping his head around to look at him straight in the eye. “When Papa left? Was it bad? I know it was bad for me, but I never thought about how it might have been for you.”  
Blaine stopped swinging, settling his weight back onto the ground. “You were all that got me through. Even if I wasn’t always very good at showing that.”

 

The two Andersons were silent for some time, listening to the breaking water, matching hazel eyes pensively fixed out onto the horizon. But Blaine felt content, his heart rate no longer edging on dangerous, his pulse settled somewhat. It wasn’t forgiveness, not yet, but it was moving forward. He was usually better with the latter than the former, anyway.

 

“I want you to promise me three things. And then we can go home.”  
Blaine chuckled softly, looking over at his son. “That sounds fair.”  
“Number one, we never discuss this whole situation again. Number two, you never do anything _questionable_ with someone my age again.” Luca paused, pointing a finger at him menacingly. Cooper was a bad influence. “When in doubt, ask for I.D.” He cleared his throat, a lazy grin settling over his features. “And number three, you let me drive the Aston Martin home.”

 

Blaine grunted under his breath, folding his arms across his chest before nodding. “Not a mile over thirty, you hear me? If there’s so much as a scratch, Luca Andrew.”

 

*

 

Blaine thought that that was the end of it. As per condition number two, the matter was well and truly dropped, and the apartment fortunately devoid of all things Smythe by the time they got back that Saturday. Luca returned to school on Monday, and emailed his father on Wednesday to let him know that the lacrosse team won their state championship, along with a photo from the game, Anderson and Smythe standing side by side in the photo. 

 

Perhaps some words ought to have been exchanged between Blaine and Sebastian, but he refused to allow himself to dwell on it, and thankfully his job provided him a hefty amount of mental distractions from the whole thing.

 

It was the following Monday when his secretary, a timid thing by the name of Jane, tapped on his door. It was late for her to still be in, let alone for anyone else to be stopping by. Blaine caught sight of Jane’s bag and coat thrown over the chair of her desk as she opened the door; only that really registering him to how late it was already.

 

“Excuse me, Mr Anderson. There’s a..man here to see you. He doesn’t have an appointment, but he promises it’ll only take a minute.”  
Through the frosted glass, Blaine saw a flash of royal red and navy blue. But Jane knew Luca. He nodded, gesturing to open the door wider. “That’s fine.”

 

Sebastian still looked young, but some of the cool demeanor had returned to his stance and expression, too. Maybe Blaine just felt old. 

 

“I just came to apologize. Clear the air.”  
Blaine sighed under his breath, shaking his head a little and leaning back in his chair. “Consider it cleared. And you don’t need to apologize. I’m supposed to be the adult, remember?”

 

Sebastian sat down suddenly, uninvited, into one of the two chairs across his desk, his bag falling to the floor with a thunk. “Mr Anderson. Blaine. Do you remember the parent-teacher conference night, last year?”

 

Blaine frowned, unsure of the need for the sudden conversation shift. But he decided to humor him; although frankly he struggled to recall any exactly details from that night. “I suppose. Luca had an impressive art portfolio, the teacher kept me in there for what seemed like hours. Why do you ask?”

 

Sebastian smiled, the action somehow a little sad. “I met you that night. For the first time. I’d only transferred a few weeks before, most of the people I’d spoken to were just faculty members. I didn’t really talk to any of the other boys yet. The faculty, they-they didn’t even give me a chance. I was always going to be the boy who transferred because he got kicked out of his last school for inappropriate relations.” Sebastian laughed bitterly, shaking his head a little. “I didn’t even- Well. That’s a story for another time.”

 

He looked up at Blaine again, a pink haze darting over his cheeks. “But you spoke to me. You were waiting for Mr Hainsworth, in Bio. I was waiting to pick up an assignment from him. Even if it was just to pass the time and because you had no cell phone service. It meant more to me than you can know.”

 

Blaine smiled softly, nodding. “You’ve cut your hair since then.”  
Sebastian shrugged, running a hand over his cropped hair. “I needed a change.”  
The older man stood from behind his desk, walking around and laying a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. “There will be others who stop and take notice. I promise.”

 

Sebastian dropped his gaze, before straightening his blazer, and equally his composure, before rising from the chair. “See you in another lifetime, Mr Anderson.”

 

*

 

_Ten years later._

 

Blaine was far too old for parties. He didn’t care if it was his show, the glass of champagne in his hand felt foreign, and the mix of faces in the crowd only emphasised his age. The grey hairs had started to come in fast and furious; at least his face retaining a youthful spark still into his fifth decade. 

 

Perhaps he could just leave. Abandon his glass, slip out through the back entrance. No one would notice.

 

A hand cupped his elbow, dragging him from his thoughts, and he turned to face a young man with sharp eyes and an even sharper cut suit. “Mr Anderson.”  
Blaine’s hand tightened around the glass, a warmth that had become unfamiliar to him spreading over his face. “Sebastian.”

 

The younger man laughed, almost in disbelief. “Well, well,” he hummed, tilting his head, his eyes glinting in the low light. “Aren’t you quite the silver fox these days?”

 

Maybe the grey hairs weren’t quite so bad, after all.


End file.
